“Home;” answered he with an aspect the most benign; “I will not wear out thy pity by rendering woe familiar to it.”
Cecilia, though at this moment more disposed for acts of charity than for business or for pleasure, remembered that her fortune however large was not unlimited, and would not press any further bounty for objects she knew not, certain that occasions and claimants, far beyond her ability of answering, would but too frequently arise among those with whom she was more connected, she therefore yielded herself to his direction, and returned to Soho-Square.
Again, however, he failed not to call the time she had appointed for re-visiting the invalid, to whom, with much gladness, he conducted her.
The poor woman, whose disease was a rheumatic fever, was already much better; she had been attended by an apothecary who had given her some alleviating medicine; she had a nurse at her bedside, and the room being cleared of the children, she had had the refreshment of some sleep.
She was now able to raise her head, and make her acknowledgments to her benefactress; but not a little was the surprise of Cecilia, when, upon looking in her face, she said, “Ah, madam, I have seen you before!”
Cecilia, who had not the smallest recollection of her, in return desired to know when, or where?
“When you were going to be married, madam, I was the Pew-Opener at —— Church.”
Cecilia started with secret horror, and involuntarily retreated from the bed; while Albany with a look of astonishment exclaimed, “Married!—why, then, is it unknown?”
“Ask me not!” cried she, hastily; “it is all a mistake.”
“Poor thing!” cried he, “this, then, is the string thy nerves endure not to have touched! sooner will I expire than a breath of mine shall make it vibrate! Oh sacred be thy sorrow, for thou canst melt at that of the indigent!”